Polysomnography
by DeepSentinel
Summary: All of the Polysomnography one-shots compiled for your convenience. Italy has never forgotten Holy Rome,but her first love may be closer than she thinks. GerIta, fem!Italy, HRE Germany, told in one big one-shot.


**Well, I decided to compile all the parts of Polysomnography into one fic. Mainly just cause I like the cover ;). Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: DeepSentinel owns nothing but ideas, beliefs, and several plot bunnies, one of which is named Jeff.**

It had been too long, Holy Rome decided. He hadn't seen Italy for years, and he was extremely lonely. This war had to end soon. But Holy Rome knew that wouldn't happen. He had seen the recent battles, and it was getting out of hand. Any more of this, and he would loose, maybe even dissolve. It was a known fact that dissolving was probably one of the worst pains a country could feel.

Holy Rome knew it was inevitable, but he wasn't going to go walk off to his death without doing one thing. He sat down at a small desk and began to write.

After finishing his letter, he called a bird to him, one that knew where Austria's house was. The bird took the letter, and flew off into the dying sun. Holy Rome sighed and turned around. He was going to give it one more shot, for Italy.

He grabbed his sword, put on his hat and cloak, and stepped towards the door. He paused for a moment, and turned to look back into his tent. In the corner, there was a small push broom, and seeing it, Holy Rome smiled sadly.

"Good bye, Italia," the country said. "I love you." And with that, the small nation walked out of his tent and towards the battlefield.

A mile south, the bird flew with purpose, trying to get its master's letter to the girl. Unfortunately, a hawk swooped out of the sky and grabbed the bird in its clutches, the letter falling towards the earth, forgotten.

In Austria's house, Italy gazed out of a window at the sunset, sighing. She missed Holy Rome so much. The days were getting less and less bearable. She couldn't even find happiness in her art. When she tried to draw a scene of the small town nearby, or a sunset over the woods, her hands took over and she unconsciously drew Holy Rome's face. Her room was littered with drawings of him. They were taking up a lot of space, and Austria often complained, but she could never bear to throw them away, and he would never force her to.

Hungary tried to help the younger girl cope, but disaster struck when Austria received a letter from the war. Austria handed it to her, and she started shaking as she read it. Italy would be devastated when she found out.

"Ita-chan?" Hungary asked, peeking into the girl's room. Her drawings were strewn around her on the floor, and she had obviously been crying. "Here," The woman said, handing Italy the letter.

Italy gripped it eagerly, hoping for some good news. It broke Hungary's heart as she watched Italy's face sink from desperate hope to despair.

"Holy Rome… is gone?" Italy squeaked out, trying to control the tears in her voice. She failed, and she burst out crying. Hungary stepped forward to comfort her little sister figure, and she gave her a hug.

"It'll be okay, Ita-chan," Hungary said. "You have to keep living for him. As long as you keep living, a fragment of his heart will live along with you."

Italy nodded, and swallowed her tears. She would keep living for Holy Rome.

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It was World War one. Italy Veneziano had seen the war, and was sick of it. Disgusted with it. Her brother, Italy Romano, was the same way. Despite having polar opposite personalities, they were similar in many ways.

They both hated war, were terrified of unknown things, and they both had their designated siesta times. And they both cared for each other immensely. When Italy had been unified, she had ran toward her brother and hugged him. She hadn't seen him since she had been captured by Austria, and he by Spain. That was the worst part of living at Austria's house: not being able to see her fratello. Everything else had been wonderful, even cleaning hadn't been too terrible. And then there was the person who had made her childhood wonderful: Holy Rome.

Italy Veneziano started to tear up, then stopped herself. She promised herself long ago that she wouldn't cry over Holy Rome anymore. There was no use in it. Italy heard a snap in the woods she was hiding in and her head shot up. The only place there was to hide was an abandoned tomato crate (had her brother left it there?) in a clearing, and Veneziano dashed towards it, jumping in and closing the lid.

As soon as she had closed the lid, she heard a person entering the clearing. He (she could tell by his voice. He was muttering to himself) tapped the box with a stick, and Italy freaked out. She begged the man not to open the box, but he ignored her.

"No, wait!" she cried as the lid was forced open. She started begging her captor not to hurt her, but in the middle of her (very fast and long) beg for mercy, he picked her up by her collar and asked her who she was. She opened her eye in surprise. He wasn't going to hurt her? Italy's eyes widened in shock. He… he looked like Holy Rome. He obviously wasn't – he didn't recognize her and he looked to mean to be him – but the resemblance brought Italy to tears again.

"You. Who are you?" the tall blond man asked. Italy quivered. "Do you know where I can find Italy, the descendent of Roman Empire?" At her grandpa's name, Italy perked up.

"You know Grandpa Rome?" She asked. "This is great! At first I thought you were all scary and mean, but -" Italy was cut off as the man shook her slightly.

"Shut up!" he yelled, causing Italy to try to shrink into her uniform. After a moment of consideration, the man announced that she would become his prisoner. Italy smiled to herself a little on the inside.

The nation of Germany was having a hard time getting to sleep. It wasn't because of the hyper Italian he spent the days with, or the pressure he was under as a nation, or the strange dreams that assaulted him at night and left him thinking about them all day. Okay, it might have been a combination of all three, but Germany wasn't going to admit that. He just told himself he'd had a little too much caffeine and forced himself to think about nothing, which usually worked.

This time, however, it did nothing for him. Scenes from some of his previous dream kept running through his mind, and no matter what the tired German did, they would not leave him alone. They were never really complete, Germany thought, as it always felt like something was missing. They were usually flashed of scenes, like a grassy field, the inside of a large house, or a small stream. Sometimes, they would have figures in them. Three different ones, thought they were usually blurs.

One of them wore purple, one black, yellow, and orange, and the last, and by far the smallest, wore green. There was something important about that green-clothed figure, but Germany could never figure out what it was.

Exhaustion finally overtook him, and Germany's dreams started again. He was in a field, and the green-clothed figure was next to him again. He has no idea what they were saying, but the dream was one of the clearest he had ever had, and he could tell that the green clothes were a dress, so the wearer must have been a girl. He felt a sudden urge to protect the girl when it started raining hard.

However, he heard a sudden burst of laughter, apparently coming from her, and turned to see the girl dancing in the rain and splashing in the newly-formed puddles. The girl reached out a hand and invited him to join her, but he shook his head no. she puffed out her cheeks and decided to splash him with one of the puddles. He stood up and did the same to her, who laughed. It escalated into a full-out splash war, and when the other two figures came to retrieve them, they were dragged into the fight as well.

So the black and yellow figure, who he finally figured out to be a young woman, joined the girl's side and the one dressed in purple (now identified as a young man) joined his. The two girls were easily overtaking them; the man not really wanting to get muddy, so he held his hands up in surrender. They stopped attacking, and he attacked again catching both of them off guard.

They stood there laughing until the girl started sneezing. They went inside, and the dream was interrupted by Germany's alarm clock. Glaring at the infernal thing, Germany turned it off and got ready for another tired day.

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"Ve~ Germany, don't you think it's pretty out here?" Italy asked as the two sat in a field, watching as the clouds drifted lazily above the earth. Italy had somehow managed to drag Germany away from his paperwork, because "if you work too hard, soon you won't know how to have fun any more, ve~" as Italy put it.

"Yes, it's very nice out here," Germany said. He couldn't help but be reminded of the dream he had last night. It had taken place in a field very much like this one. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, it had started raining.

"Yay, It's raining!" Italy exclaimed, standing up and starting to dance and jump around. The scene looked familiar to Germany, though he couldn't place it at first. Then she reached out her hand to help him up.

"Come on, Germany, let's play in the rain!" she said. A large smile was plastered on her face.

"No, we should go back inside before we catch colds," Germany said. Italy looked slightly annoyed, but then her face lit up with an idea. She walked to the puddle closest to Germany and jumped in it as hard as she could, splashing the taller nation. Germany got up and did the same to her, and a splash fight ensued. After about twenty minutes, Japan decided to come looking for his friends

He didn't expect to get thrown into a water fight (in the rain, no less. Where they_ trying_ to give themselves colds?), with him and Italy against Germany, who was slowly loosing ground against the other two nations. Germany finally held his hands up in defeat. While the others were unprepared, he sprung his surprise, drenching Japan and Italy even more than they already were. Italy started laughing, followed by an unusually open Japan, and then finally Germany. Germany then realized why this all seemed to familiar to him. It was an almost perfect replication of his dream last night. He shook it off as a coincidence, and them helped Italy back into the house once she had started sneezing.

Germany's dreams that night were once again filled with the little girl in green and her ever-present smile. He couldn't help but wonder to himself who she was, and why she kept appearing in his dreams like they were trying to tell him something. Oh well. That question was for some other time, a time when he had more of the details. But for now, Germany would just dream.

Italy opened her eyes. She was on the couch again, and from her vantage point, she could see that the kitchen was a disaster area. Again. Whenever she woke up on the couch, the kitchen would always be trashed. She would rush to clean it up and then go back to bed before Germany woke up, which was later than he did normally. Italy had no clue why this was, but just figured she woke up extra early from her uncomfortable position on the couch, so it only seemed like he woke up late to her.

She sat up and stretched, waking her body up. Walking toward the supply closet to get a broom, she paused in front of the mirror, looking herself over.

_I look like shit, _she thought. Her short brown hair was limp and messy. Her skin was pale, except for underneath her eyes, which had dark bags like she hadn't slept in days.

The anniversary was coming, she realized. The anniversary of the last day she saw the Holy Roman Empire. The day he went off to war, and unknowingly, to his death. She had observed it every year since she found out he had died, and hadn't forgotten it once.

Her body had grown accustomed to the yearly tradition of sitting inside, cooped up crying for days on end, and had already started to adjust before she realized what it meant.

_How could I have forgotten!? I'm sorry, Holy Rome!_ Italy mentally apologized. The silence of the pre-sunrise morning unnerved her, and she shuddered and continued to the closet. What had made this year so different from the last that she forgot one of the most important days of the year to her?

The answer hit her. _Germany_, she thought. She had started living with him after Spain had moved in with Romano (three was a crowd. She felt like a third wheel, so she asked her best friend if she could move in with him. Germany hesitated, but said yes), and they had gone places together like the fireworks on her birthday. Maybe she thought of the tall German as something other than a friend? Something more? Italy shook her head and sighed. That was impossible. There was absolutely no way she _liked_ Germany like that.

….

Was there?

Italy tried to force the thoughts out of her head, but that just resulted in a scrunched up face and a headache. She shook her head to get rid of the pain and grabbed the cleaning supplies. Making her way to the kitchen, she thought she heard a thump, but ignored it and started cleaning up her mess.

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Germany opened his eyes. Something was wrong, very, very wrong. There was no sleeping Italian next to him. And it was 2:39, he noted.

Now before any of you France-y people get the wrong idea, nothing ever happened when Italy decided to sneak into Germany's bed in the middle of the night. Germany had freaked out when she first did it, but he soon realized that she had no intentions of the France-y sort. She was far too naïve to even know what France meant when he explained CENSORED and CENSORED, so Germany had no real problem with it. He had even gotten used to it.

That's where the problem came in. Italy was not in his be when he woke up. It had gotten to the point where she had snuck in every night, whether it be from a thunder storm, or a bad dream, or "I thought Germany was lonely, ve~," so her not being there was as strange and unnatural to him as his brother suddenly becoming responsible and mature. And that was a scary thought.

Germany just closed his eyes and laid back down. She was probably just getting some water and would be back in a few minutes...

But when five minutes passed, and then ten, and then fifteen, and Italy didn't come back, Germany decided get up. She was probably fine, but he had to make sure. He moved to get out of bed... and promptly face-planted. His ankles had gotten tangled in the bed sheets.

"Scheiße*," Germany muttered, lifting himself off the floor. he made his way downstairs, not bothering to get changed or slick his hair back. There was no point, as Italy was probably fine and he could just go back to bed.

The first thing he saw when he stepped downstairs was a scene that would put a tornado to shame. There was flour and batter everywhere, even on the ceiling, and Germany had to take a few deep breaths before continuing on. When he reached the kitchen, he found Italy. Not cooking, but cleaning furiously, like she was on a deadline. Germany cleared his throat, and Italy quickly turned around, dark circles obvious underneath her eyes.

"Holy Rome!" she exclaimed. Germany raised an eyebrow, but she continued before he could interrupt her. "I'm sorry about the mess, but I was sleepwalking and made you cookies, and I usually clean it up before anyone sees. I'm sorry I forgot, and it'll never happen again, but please don't leave me again!"

Germany got down on his knees, eye level with Italy, and brought her into a hug. "I'm sorry I made you upset, but I'm not Holy Rome, whoever he is. I can tell he is very important to you, though, or else you wouldn't have gone through all that trouble. I'm sure that wherever he is, he appreciates it, too, but you should get some sleep."

"I'm sorry, Germany," Italy said, a small smile on her face. "Thank you. I'm sure he does, too" And at that, Italy passed out. whether it was from exhaustion or emotional stress, Germany wasn't sure. He carried her upstairs to bed, and them went back downstairs to finish cleaning up the kitchen. This was going to take a while…

Germany woke up in a cold sweat. That dream. It was much too realistic to actually be a dream. There was absolutely no way his subconscious could come up with something like that, scenery that beautiful, a girl that beautiful. His mind didn't have the imagination to create it all from scratch. He had to have seen something like that before.

Germany pushed the thought to the back of his mind and focused on getting ready for the day. No matter how hard he tried, though, the dream kept running through his head. He let the hot water of the shower wash over him as he lost himself in thought. Where could he have seen something like that before?

What shocked him out of his thoughts was the water turning cold. He sighed and turned it off, stepping out of the shower. He got dressed, and was about to slick his hair back, when he paused. He'd leave it down for today, he decided. He went downstairs to find Italy making them both breakfast. For once, the dish was something other than pasta.

"Morning, Germany!" she greeted him, smiling. She was starting to look much better than she had during that episode a month ago that Germany still wasn't positive was real. She no longer had bags under her eyes, and the spark had returned to them.

"Good morning," he replied, sitting down after pouring himself a cup of coffee. Not that instant American stuff that both Italy and her brother called "dirty water," but hand ground coffee hand picked by Italy herself. Germany had to admit, it was pretty good.

"Sleep well, Ludwig?" Italy asked. Germany's eyes widened, and he almost choked on his coffee, but he quickly swallowed it, pretty sure Italy hadn't seen anything.

"Yes," he replied simply, not wanting to tell Italy about his dream. An idea suddenly popped into his head. "I'm going out for while. Will you be okay for about an hour or so?" he asked. Italy had been having fainting spells recently, but she assured Germany that she was fine and that he shouldn't worry about it.

Italy nodded in response. "Ve~ I'll be fine, Ludwig! You shouldn't worry as much!"

"Okay then," Germany said. "See you later, Feli." He walked out the door and went straight to his car, a dark blue Ferrari that Italy had gotten him for his birthday. He honestly preferred German engineered cars, like his Mercedes Benz, but Italy had gone through the effort (and money) to get it for him, and he wasn't going to let that go to waste. That, and despite the car not being German-made, he still felt comfortable behind the wheel.

He questioned himself as he drove south. Was this really a good idea? Sure, Germany had heard him talking about dreams and their meaning before, but he didn't really think the man could help him, did he? Well, it was either him or Prussia, and though he loved him, Germany really didn't want to go to his older brother for serious advice. Prussia would probably just end up telling him to "loosen up, West, and try to be more awesome like me! Kesesesese," and let's face it, that's not the best advice for something so serious, Germany was loosing sleep over it.

He pulled up the long hidden drive and parked in front, letting his muscle memory take over as he tried to plan what he was going to say. Unfortunately for Germany, though, Austria opened the door before he was composed.

"Germany." Austria said, looking a little surprised. "You look different. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Uh, yes." Germany said. "Can I come in?" Austria stepped to the side and allowed him to enter. They sat down in the sitting room, and Germany began to explain why he came.

"Do you know how to interpret dreams?" Germany asked. Austria nodded in response. "Well, I've been having these strange dreams lately, and I have no idea what they could possibly mean. They seem too realistic to be dreams, too."

"What happens in these dreams?" Austria asked, sipping his tea

"Well, they usually take place in or around a large house. I'm part of it, but I'm much younger. There are two teenagers and a little girl in a green dress. What happens in the dream varies. One time, we were all having a water fight in a rainstorm. Another time, the little girl was trying to teach me how to paint. It didn't turn out that well though."

Austria started choking on his tea, but was able to swallow it without any problem.

"R-really? That's... interesting..." he said as he avoided Germany's gaze.

"Austria... What do you know about this?"

"I... I can't tell you."

"Please, Austria. I need to know."

Austria looked at him for a moment, and then hung his head in defeat. "... Fine. I knew this was going to happen eventually. Germany, what do you remember of your childhood?"

"My childhood?" Germany asked, his eyes widening in confusion. "Not much. I remember being found and raised by Prussia, but isn't that how all nations come about?"

"You're right about the way nations appear, but you have more history than that. You've just forgotten it. I believe that's what these dreams are. Old memories trying to resurface."

"So these dreams are real?" Germany buried his head in his hands. "Who else knows?"

"Myself. Hungary, your brother, and France"

"Why does France know?"

"Because he was the one who gave you amnesia in the first place."

"What.. what exactly did I forget? Who is that girl?"

"I can't tell you. I'm not allowed to trigger your memory restoration, you have to do it yourself."

Germany stood up. "Thank you for your time, Austria. I'm going to go try to trigger my memories. I'll show myself to the door."

"Germany... Wait." Austria pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to the taller man. "If anyone asks, I didn't give this to you." Germany nodded and walked towards his car, putting the little map safely into his pocket.

_I'm at a payphone, trying to call home _

_All of my change I've spent on you_

_Where have the times gone, baby it's all wrong, _

_Where are the plans we made for two?_

_If happy ever after did exist, _

_I would still be holding you like this._

_All these fairy tales are full of shit, _

_One more stupid love song-_

Italy turned off the car's stereo, momentarily wondering how she even got reception for a station that played America's music. Her focus was then yanked back to the road when she almost ran into a tree. She marveled at how much the road had fallen into disrepair since the last time she had come this way. The pavement was cracked and pot-holed, and roots poked up from between the fissures.

Germany was missing. He had been gone for six days now, and he couldn't be found anywhere. The stress of that coupled with more frequent fainting spells and dreams about Holy Rome had left her in need of a quiet place to think. So Italy had gotten in her car and sped off down a long-forgotten road, towards a place she hadn't seen in decades. She passed under the remains of an arch.

She turned off the engine as she approached an old, crumbling structure, and stepped out onto the cobble stone walkway. The same walkway that she had cleaned innumerable times was hardly visible underneath the weeds that now flourished in this forgotten place.

Taking a deep breath, Italy walked toward the door.

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Ludwig opened his eyes. _I recognize this place now._ It might have been a few centuries older and beyond repair, but there was no mistaking his old strategy room. _That must mean... I'm in my old house._

He tried to get up, but was assaulted by a massive headache. _I'm just going to sit here for a while, let my head clear up. _He looked down at himself. _Wow. I look filthy. How long have I been out? _He decided that the first thing he needed to do once his headache cleared up was to go find some cleaner clothes.

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Italy walked through the hallways, reminiscing. This hallway was the main hall. The door over there led to Ms. Hungary's room, and that room was... Holy Rome's...

Italy fought back the urge to run away crying and turned the door knob. She had never before been in Holy Rome's room except for a few times during thunderstorms. It was pretty clean for a room that had not seen the light of day in centuries. Speaking of light, Italy couldn't see much of the room with only the light of the hall way, so she went over and pulled back the heavy drapes, drenching the room in sunlight.

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Ludwig adjusted his cloak again. The old outfit was itchy, but it fit, and it was much cleaner than the clothes he woke up in. _It looks like what I used to wear. Hungary must have made this in case I had a sudden growth spurt. She's so thoughtful. _He looked at his reflection in the mirror, noting that something seemed off. _Hm, where is it?_ His eyes settled on an old black hat.

Scooping the hat off the dresser and onto his head, Ludwig looked at himself once more. _That's much better, _he thought.

But now what was he supposed to do?

_Well, I suppose I could always go check on my old room._

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Italy sat down on the bed, silently crying. Why did she come here? She knew that this place would only bring back old memories, some that she's rather forget. It's not like he could be raised from the dead. You can't bring a dead person, or even nation, back. It's impossible. It's always been impossible

"Italy?"

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Italy was on his bed, crying.

Why was she here? How long has she been here? And why the hell was she crying like someone just died?

_Oh..._ Ludwig thought. _I'm supposed to be dead. That's right, she's still not over the fact that I couldn't come back._

"Italy?" He asked. Her head whipped around, eyes wide. "Italy, are you okay?"

Italy said nothing, just stared at him, shaking slightly.

"Italy..."

"No," She said quietly, then louder. "No, you're not real! You're just a hallucination! You can't be real! You're dead! You died so long ago! So why can't you just stay dead?! It's bad enough having Germany around all the time, reminding me of what will never be mine again! Why can't you just stay dead?!" She yelled the last part, then broke down sobbing, curled up in a ball. Ludwig walked over to her and put an arm around her.

"I'm real," He said. "I'm sorry I've been away for so long. I never wanted this to happen."

Italy sniffled and looked up at him. "Germany?"

"Yes." he said. "But I'm also Holy Rome. I guess I took a little time for the amnesia to wear off, huh?"

Italy giggled a little bit. "Are you really Holy Rome?" she asked. Ludwig nodded.

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to remember you, and everything's still a little fuzzy, but deep down, I guess I never really forgot you. I kept having dreams of when we were kids, and I could never figure it out, so I eventually gave up and went to Austria for help. He told me I had amnesia and gave me the map to this place, to home."

"Wait, Austria knew this entire time?"

"Him, Bruder, Hungary, and France."

"Big Brother France and Hungary knew and they never told me?" Italy looked on the verge of tears.

"Wait!" Ludwig said, and Italy stopped mid sniffle. "Austria was talking like he wasn't allowed to tell me these things, so I don't think it's their fault for not telling you."

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do. And I don't care if what Austria did broke some rules, I'm just glad he did. Without him, I would have never remembered any of it."

"That's true. Hey, Ludwig?"

"Yes, Feli?"

"Te amo."

"Ich liebe dich."

"Hey, Ludwig? Can we have pasta now?"

And cue facepalm.

**It's been a while since I started this, a little over half a year. If this was a chapter fic instead of a bunch of one-shots, my updating could be called sporatic. But alas, they are all one-shots, and therefore not subject to this thing we call updating. Hehe. Well, my sporadic-updating-tendincies are what caused me to make them a bunch of one-shots, anyways, so...**

**Pasta~!**

**I hope you enjoyed Polysomnography, and I am NEVER doing anything like that EVER AGAIN. Now good night.**

**Oh, and before I go, see that nifty little review box down there? It's summoning you. Beckoning you. Urging you to tell me what you think. Toodles!**


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